Necessary Evil
by M4r1-ch4n
Summary: Damon wasn't exactly the bad guy; he just had the guts to do what needed to be done. [Post 4x15 – "Stand by Me"]


**A/N:** This was motivated by all the Alaric mentions in 4x15, specially when Elena asked Damon if he would kill twelve other people in order to bring all the dead supernatural creatures back into the living world. I miss Alaric terribly and Damon's snarky comments are the only thing that still get me going concerning the show – so I like to pretend that this season is just a huge excuse to find a way to bring Alaric back, seeing as how Matt Davis himself doesn't oppose to the idea.

So yeah, here's my take on what I would love to see in the show. Sorry for any canon inaccuracies, I wrote this in the spur of the moment. Also, it's entirely up to you whether this implies in mere friendship between Alaric and Damon or _something else_.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Vampire Diaries.

* * *

**Necessary Evil**

* * *

"You know, coming to think of it... I never really killed anyone after I started hanging out with you."

The declaration was met with silence, as it would be expected; the still atmosphere of the cemetery was disturbed by crickets chirping at distance and the occasional noise of dry leaves breaking as Damon stepped on them, moving with no real purpose near one of the graves, apparently the one he addressed his comments to. The vampire was dressed in his usual fashion, with a dark pair of jeans, a black shirt and a leather jacket over it all, with one distinctive difference: blood was smeared all over it.

"I mean, I didn't kill for fun or because I was bored. I did it only to save my ass, or yours... Or someone else's. I was the good guy, really," The blue-eyed immortal was obviously explaining something to someone - Damon felt the need to justify his acts, for once. He supposed the one buried under that gravestone would like that, or at least the older Salvatore brother believed he deserved that, "Ok, so maybe I killed you. After we got to be friends. But you had your ring, so I guess it doesn't really count, huh?"

Despite everything, Damon caught himself smiling. Of course, Alaric had been downright pissed and refused to talk to him for days, but in the end their friendship was renewed and became stronger than ever. He sighed, running fingers through black-raven hair and biting his lower lip, very familiar to that burning sensation behind his eyes but refusing to give in to it.

"So... I'm not gonna say I'm sorry I killed, Ric. After everything, after being the good guy for so long, I murdered once more." He realised that there was blood on his fingers as he said so, and wiped them on his jeans for a moment, unable to get it off, "You see this? This is the blood of twelve vampires. I helped turn the lot and then killed all of them on the spot."

He eventually sighed and dropped to his knees, the leaves cracking as he did so. The vampire reached into his back pocket and fished a lighter, leaning forward as he looked for something which should be there - a candle. He found at least a couple of them, not entirely melted yet probably because the wind or the rain had put off the flames he usually lit there.

"I killed twelve vampires for Bonnie and Silas. They say they'll rise again, but I don't give a damn about them." Damon's expression was fierce, eyebrows furrowed together as he spoke and finally lit the two remaining candles from his routine visits to Mystic Falls' cemetery, "I'd have killed more people if Bonnie asked me to and if it meant to have you back."

A small noise from the crypt not far away didn't startle the vampire; he paid no mind to whatever animal could be roaming the place at night and instead sat down on the ground, legs crossed and facing the gravestone which was now illuminated by the feeble light from the pair of candles. However, for his vampire eyes, the name "Alaric Saltzman" was clearly visible on the stone.

"I know what you'd say. 'No Damon, don't do this.' or 'No Damon, I won't have you taking innocent lives for black magic'. But you know what, Ric? I don't fucking care. I don't mind if you don't talk to me after Silas works his thing, because then, at least... You'll be alive, and not talking will be a choice. You're not here to convince me otherwise, so there. Sucks to be dead, huh?"

The older Salvatore eventually realised that he was arguing with a dead person, going as so far as trying to imagine Alaric's arguments. But he didn't care and he had tried to bury, deep down within him, the pain he had been feeling since his friend's death. It had gotten better when Elena called and said she loved him, when everything seemed to be pure bliss - but since he had found out about the sire bond, the world looked grim again. He hated himself for not being able to believe Elena's words as easily as Stefan seemed to do before; but it was in Damon's nature to be suspicious and cynical and he didn't know how to act differently.

So when she had her breakdown after the little Gilbert died, he realised he didn't know how to deal with that. He didn't do comforting, he didn't do false hope. He had no idea how to talk to Elena and told her to do the only thing he could think of - to shut everything off. That was what he had done before, after all. But even before Elena reached that disturbing point, her grief had already sparked something in Damon.

All the constant mentions about Alaric and then, suddenly, the question. The almost cruel tone she used when she asked Damon if he would do it to have his drinking buddy back - and he couldn't find the words to reply because he knew Stefan and the others would kill him for them. They would lock him down, they would hunt him somehow - because no one in Mystic Falls doubted, even for a second, that Damon was completely capable of carrying on a mass murder if required.

He wasn't exactly the bad guy; he just had the guts to do what needed to be done.

"It sucks being here, buddy. It sucks not having a friend again and someone I can fucking trust. I'm still a glorified babysitter for this town and I barely get some gratitude. I need you, brother. And if Silas doesn't bring you back, I'll personally rip his heart out."

It took Damon a moment to realise he was crying - actually crying from grief, to the point tears were streaming down his face and landing on his hands, folded over his legs. He smiled humourlessly, reaching for one of the inside pockets of his jackets and rummaging through it, finding a silver hip flask he sometimes carried with him - and he made sure to bring one that night, despite not having touched it since he left the Salvatore house.

He uncorked the stopper and then gulped down the bourbon he had filled the flask with earlier; the taste of the beverage was familiar and had an oddly soothing effect on him, stopping his tears as he eventually put the flask away and turned it down, pouring the rest of the whiskey on Alaric's gravestone.

"To being badasses again, huh?" It sounded cheesy, Damon knew, but he chuckled nonetheless. He pocketed the hip flask again and stood up, not even bothering with the dirt and the leaves which clung to his trousers, smiling at the grave and nodding curtly, "I'll be seeing you soon, buddy."

The silence which surrounded the place was broken by the heavy thuds of vampire steps, going further and further away until they couldn't be heard anymore. The candles still went on flickering, burning softly under the quiet night and making Alaric's eyes gleam despite his current ghost form, sitting next to his grave where his knee would have touched Damon's, had he possessed any power to make his presence known.

"Soon enough, Damon."

**THE END**


End file.
